[RP] Black and Blue

[Mogweh]

I like the sound of Icerra. Much more interesting than her tea sippin' sister.

Nice write-up.

[Aramara Meibi]

hehe, she is something of a darkhorse, isn't she?

thanks for the compliments, I'm glad you enjoyed it, although Karlyle deserves his fair share. I'm glad we got to have this little RP before he had to leave for good. It was nice to get a little bit of closure between the two, and Icerra got her revenge, and some info to work off of, so we'll see where it can go from here

[Rigwyn]

Ohh.. its not over yet..   
But I didn't say that...


 

[Rigwyn]

Curses!

Stellan Aristo, and his unmistakable handle bar mustache; who would ever think that this mere perfume merchant would prove to be so much trouble. Those words flashed though Rigwyn's mind as he sat in Kada El's while Stellan questioned him. Did he really think he would get an honest answer from such a twisted derelict?  Perhaps he wasn't yet fully aware.      Having agreed to answer his questions, the two took their conversation to the roof – knowing that Allelia's pointed ears and flappy mouth would be a problem. The conversation drifted from casual talk to accusations of causing true death to a string of civilians and dissolving their bodies, then to playful banter, and full blown insults. Seeing that Stellan's accusation carried some weight should the guards believe him, Rigwyn gave in and answered him.. well sort of – but at a steep price.      Not willing to part with his gold – or perhaps not having enough, Stellan agreed to hand over his remarkably well crafted leather boots – bearing the mark of Zylax (a set of crossed horns) , and his hair – not just a single lock, but all of it in exchange for the information he sought. Perhaps it seemed like a mere insult or a chance to dominate, perhaps it looked like a foolish request.

     Satisfied with his awesome new boots and fist full of gray hair, Rigwyn put a knot in the hair and stuffed it into his sack along with the boots. He then confessed the names of the two Klyros who were responsible for the string of permanent deaths – an acid hurling woman named Evi and her thunder bolt hurling cohort, Travosh. He made it quite clear that the relationship between the two Klryos was secret – that they would never admit to knowing one another.


     A matter of days had passed, as Rigwyn brewed over a resentment that just wouldn't go away. The Ynnwn actually accused him of causing these perma deaths - and insulted him too! He sat back in his chair as he looked around at the shelves within the hideout as a thought popped into his head. He recalled hearing Stellan's voice in Kada El's, along with that of Monala's. The thought of them rubbing noses by the fire made him sick. This was the same woman that had the audacity to shoot him in the nuts weeks ago over some golden spectacle wearing fenki.  Slowly, a smile grew on his face.

     Taking a lock of hair from the knotted bunch, and a wad of adipocere, he drafted a curse on an old parchment. He wrapped the lock around his finger and began to rock in his chair as he pictured Stellan in the theater of his mind. He had pictured him so clearly, he could feel his presence and smell his cologne. A torrent of welled up hatred began to swirl and roar deep within as he focused on the Ynnwn and chanted as he rocked, “Pain, Sadness, Dsyphoria!” A putrid black cloud began to form around him – pulsating with each repetition, then seeping into the long strands of gray hair.

     Having finally settled  and feeling tired and worn he began to knead the hair into the lump of grave wax, along with a larger wad of clay. When the mixture was consistent, he placed it over the seam of the rolled up parchment, then pressed his black crystal ring into it – leaving a unique imprint. With a small pulse of red way energy, the seal was baked and hardened. Careful not to break the brittle seal, he held it at its end as he stepped outside to summoned a rogue who had been looming around the area – seeking to prove his worth.

     “Take this to Stellan Aristo in Hydlaa.”, he said. “He's a big 'ole Ynnwn with a horrible hair cut, handle bar mustache, and funny yellow pants. He's one of a kind, you can't miss him. Hurry back when you're done and we'll talk about greater things!” With that, Halisher Crox fled with note in hand as fast as his feet would take him.

[Jilata]

*snickers at the fact that Diaboli could hide between Ynnwn cause they won't get noticed as Diaboli anymore* (Stellan is a Diaboli as far as I know)

This sounds like that RP had been fun and will make fun RPs in the future. Accusing the wrong people...

[Rigwyn]

*snickers at the fact that Diaboli could hide between Ynnwn cause they won't get noticed as Diaboli anymore* (Stellan is a Diaboli as far as I know)

This sounds like that RP had been fun and will make fun RPs in the future. Accusing the wrong people...

*facepalm*   

I should know better! Everyone is always thinking that Rigwyn is a Ynnwn when he's actually Diaboli!

[MishkaL1138]

I like the sound of Icerra. Much more interesting than her tea sippin' sister.

[That might be the most accurate description of Aramara I've ever heard.]

[Sadie]

           Not to spoil the fun, but Sanrai never was left with any flower.  To possibly save her life, this is the way of it:
   She came back to conciousness while he was cutting off her change purse.  She managed to cast an Azure way spell for protection (dome of  perfection), and he backed away most quickly.  Then he shouted something about 'not finished yet', ran past her out of the alley, and escaped.
   People came running to help her back to Kada-El's, for protection.  They were very kind to her, and helped her recover.

   

[Aramara Meibi]

I like the sound of Icerra. Much more interesting than her tea sippin' sister.

[That might be the most accurate description of Aramara I've ever heard.]

Hey! She prefers wine you know... I mean, she DOES carry around with her a bottle that never goes empty, and has been known to drink straight from it, forgoing use of her goblet.

Back in Texas, TeaSips are how we referred to 'hippies' and yeah... she IS one of those

[SAristo]

Hey all. I just found this thread. By the way, Stellan is a Diaboli. This spin-off grew from the ideas of players of Rigwyn, Karnath, Monala, and not least Aschatan, Fogil, Zylax and Rhinia of Ordo Phalanster - man, what a guild! 

"Uh, will it hurt?" Stellan heard his own voice whimper. Zylax's sympathetic look and Karnath's sigh only confirmed the idiocy of his question.

Karnath had called this type of magic forbidden - what the **** had Rigwyn done! All his precious gray hair had not been for some stupid Kran wig after all! Stellan felt the sting of his own foolish assumption like a slap in the face.

If the curse would only follow the blood out of him, like Karnath said - it had to be done, it had to be tried, if just to hold Monala, and their child, for a time. Willing her lovely face to mind, he knelt - his legs were suddenly unsteady - and held his wrist out to Karnath. "I am ready."

The knife-edge was mercifully keen. Karnath intoned words in unfamiliar tongues. Terror gripped Stellan as blood coaxed from his opened vein pooled in the crack on the floor. Before the room faded, he wondered from Karnath's expression if something was wrong ... Then the screams and convulsions tore from his body.

It was a lie, what he'd heard about his whole life flashing before his eyes. He wasn't reliving steamy nights with alluring women, **** no. Instead he was numb with cold, alone, and utterly hollow. A series of mental images flicked dully backward, producing, unnaturally, none of the horror or remorse he had originally felt: Zylax, too late to save the dirty rogue messenger ... Blood gushing from a neck wound that couldn't be stanched ... The man, overcome by sudden misery and despair, slashing his own throat ... Screams of agony at Stellan's burning touch ... And, finally - or first of all, really - the potent words of the sealed scroll he'd ripped open like an impulsive fool:

By powers dark, and sacrifices made,
Be cursed, Stellan, as you read these words!
May your touch inflict a stabbing pain,
A hurt that bites and burns the flesh inside,
leaving sadness in its wake, and dreams of suicide,
May every shake, caress and kiss,
leave blistered sores and agony behind.

[SAristo]

Jilata, so you play Telena?  Wondered what happened to her.
And Karlyle. Damn. Had a job for him, what a shame.

[Candy]

Monala sat in the Stone Head, her tea going cold. It was an ungodly hour to be awake, but Orarid - or Ry, as she nicknamed the baby, wouldn't sleep. She was nestled into the pillows, freezing, her cloak wrapped around the newborn in her arms. She briefly considered setting him down for a minute to unroll one of those carpets and drape it over herself. She wasn't about to let go of her child, though, not even to stop herself from catching her death. She felt too alone without the child's warmth, his little tail flicking against her forearm.

"Ridiculous." she thought, "I'm not alone. Not with Ry here. Putting him down for a minute won't change that."

Still, she was reluctant. She looked at her child, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of the father. She'd been so business-like about arranging to get pregnant - perhaps she should have gotten to know him first, realized he had enemies, thought it through. She didn't regret having Ry, though. It was nice, rather than making life complicated like she usually did, to simply make life.

"Besides, he's still a step up from the others," the sensible part of her mind reminded her. The lover before Stellan had tried to literally stab her in the back before going missing. Before that there was the easy nolthrir who left her with a gift of trias and no word on where or why she was going. "Maybe this one is actually good for me."

The Ynnwn looked down at her baby, who briefly looked back up with her own brown eyes. They were finally, mercifully, starting to close. She'd heard Stellan was trying some forbidden magic as a temporary fix. Maybe he'd get to experience the relaxing feeling of a child falling asleep in his arms too, soon. Or maybe he'd be stuck unable to touch anyone forever and the curse would stay and he would go crazy or poison himself or run off with some witch that had the real cure and...

Monala tried to stop thinking. It was a lot harder to do when drinking was out of the question. A little Red would warm her up, too. The Ynnwn was just about to get up and make a very stupid decision involving that train of thought, but she held her breath as she heard footsteps to her right.

"You should head home, sis."

"But Ry just fell asleep."

"Fine," Chays whispered, running his fingers through his long hair. "I knew you'd be out somewhere, hoping he'd show up. Good thing I brought an extra blanket."

He draped the thick, itchy quilt protectively over Monala and himself, leaning against her. She leaned back, and instead of a reply, only a yawn came out of her mouth. She quickly drifted off to nightmares about only being able to sing cursed lullabies to her child.

[Mogweh]

Nice insight with economy of word use that focuses on the character. 

Decent well thought out rp characters aren't dead when Candy is online it would seem.

I like the sound of Icerra. Much more interesting than her tea sippin' sister.

[That might be the most accurate description of Aramara I've ever heard.]

Hey! She prefers wine you know... I mean, she DOES carry around with her a bottle that never goes empty, and has been known to drink straight from it, forgoing use of her goblet.

Back in Texas, TeaSips are how we referred to 'hippies' and yeah... she IS one of those

Aramara? 

[Candy]

  D'aww, thanks. It helps that I've been playing Momo on-and-off for about four years now, though...she's my longest-running RP character yet.

[Rigwyn]

Moth and Flame

     Rigwyn tossed as he tried to sleep; his face twitched, his cheeks winced as if in pain as he dreamed of a dark, dancing flame. Its curves were enticing, but its heat was fearsome; he knew it would burn far more than fire should he come close.  Tormented with temptation, he reached out hesitantly, then stroked its curves.  Pain filled his body from head to toe. He began to panic as the flame caught and fire raced up his arm. Suddenly, he was aware that he was dreaming, but could not awaken. Trapped in a nightmare, he wailed as the fire burned and consumed his body. He looked at his arms and legs and watched helplessly as his flesh sputtered and burned away like a hog over a fire.  He looked back to the flame as it laughed in his face, then whispered:

“The time has come, clacker. You will prove your worth.”

     With that, he awoke sitting strait up – sheets clenched in his fists, heart pounding out of his chest. He looked around the room, then wiped his brow. Not wanting to attempt to resume sleep, he took his staff and left the camp in the cover of night to seek the source of his dream – the flame to which he was fatally drawn.

     Stepping inside the temple, he heard an echo – the sound of footsteps tapping though the halls. As he continued, they became louder, then stopped. He called out but nobody answered. About to turn and go back, he heard a raspy whisper from behind him. It sent a chill up his spine, and instantly made his hands sweat and his knees tremble. Scared and perplexed by the effect that the voice seemed to have on him he turned.

     Before him a figure stood – covered from head to toe in a bright red ceremonial robe. His cowl hung over his head, and his face deliberately pointed down at the floor. From the cowl came a whisper,

“Rigwyn, you have been chosen to perform a ritual. Take this note and memorize it, then burn it before you leave here.”

     From his height and the complexion of his outstretched hand, it was apparent that he was a most likely a lemur. He took the note and glanced at it briefly then began to ask, “The starphires, this is...”

“Silence!”, the lemur shouted. “Not a word to me or anyone else. Memorize the ritual, burn it and begone!”

     Again, there was something strangely familiar about the hooded cultist's voice, but he dared not ask. The figure turned and walked away – revealing a large snake-like twist on his back. It was emerald and gold in color – just like the symbol found in the Laanx temple. He watched as the figure left his sight, then sat down and began to read.